


The Prince's Wyvern

by PseudoMon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra, Animal POV, Gen, Pre-Canon, That white wyvern is claude's oldest friend, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoMon/pseuds/PseudoMon
Summary: The little white wyvern was barely a month old when the scorned young prince of Almyra found him. They were there for each other when the world was against them. In time, they would come to share the same ambition: to rule the skies together.
Relationships: Claude & his wyvern
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	The Prince's Wyvern

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to every one of you who has ever drawn Claude together with his white wyvern. Bonus points if you draw them when they were young or growing up together!!

The little white wyvern was barely a month old when the prince found him. 

The young prince was playing around the bushes by himself, carrying a stick which he used to poke at berries and insects and whatever else he found. He had a book in his other hand, which he occasionally consulted when he poked at something new. Sometimes he'd pick the thing he was poking up and put it in the pouch on his belt. The wyvern did not understand what he was doing, but he could smell there were more in that pouch than just berries.

One moment when the prince was busy looking at a footprint on the ground, the little wyvern sneaked up close, sniffed at his pouch, and then, before the prince could react, he ripped a tear through the bag and spilled all its contents on the ground. The wyvern found the prince's lunch---a loaf of meat and bread---and he was just about ready to run away with his finding when he saw the look in the prince's eyes. Instead of shooing him like most humans would, the prince was smiling. It was the widest smile the wyvern had ever seen on a human before. 

They stood staring at each other for a moment before, slowly, the prince came over and pat his head. He laughed when the wyvern started sniffing at his hair. He wasn't even angry when he almost bit his ear. 

Then, as if by magic, he pulled out more bits of meat from his pockets and trailed it on the ground. The wyvern, even shy as he was, followed the trail all the way to what would become his new home.

* * *

The little prince gave him a name: Mahamut. Mahamut then learned that the prince had two names: to almost all the other humans, he was known as Prince Khalid of Almyra, second son of the Shah. But to his mother, whom he seldom meet but always seemed to look forward meeting, he was little Claude.

Mahamut did not know why the prince would need two names, but he liked the name he got. Mahamut. He liked it when the prince call him by that name, and then he would feed him more treats. He liked climbing on the prince's head and making him laugh just by being there. He liked his laughter and the way he smiled when they were together. He had began to notice that the prince rarely smile otherwise.

The prince was different from the other humans. His skin was lighter than the other's brown, his eyes were deep green while the other were dark brown or golden. Not a difference that should matter, nothing like how Mahamut's white scales looked different from all the other wyvern's black, but still the humans treated him differently. Most people gave him odd looks. They whispered, when they thought he wasn't looking. Other children wouldn't play with him, and those that did jeered at him. 

The prince did not seem to mind, or perhaps he only made it seem like he didn't mind. He played by himself, with his books and his sticks. He got on well with horses and wyverns and Mahamut, of course, and the few adults that would help him. Sometimes they'd help him onto a large adult wyvern and they would fly. When that happened, Mahamut could only watch him from the grounds, jealous. Someday, when he was big enough, it would be him that the prince would climb on. They would take to the sky together.

The prince's mother was also different from the others. Her skin was lighter, bright as the sun, and her eyes were the same strange shade of green. But the others didn't spit at her. They were terrified at her. She was always carrying a sword or an axe or bows strong enough to kill people with, and the look at her face told them she wouldn't hesitate to use them. And so the other humans looked at her with deference. They called her their Queen and not simply out of formality. 

The Queen also had a wyvern of her own, whom she loved. A mighty white-scaled wyvern with long curved horn, the way Mahamut imagined himself to be. They were majestic together. Even flying with a crowd of other wyvern riders, it was obvious that _they_ were the rulers of the skies. 

One day, watching them fly while perching on the prince's shoulder, Mahamut looked down and saw the same awe in the prince's face. The prince looked at him back and they came to an understanding. No matter what people say, one day, it would be the two of them up there together, and _they_ would rule the skies.

From then on, the two worked harder at what they wanted to become. Mahamut ate well and practiced his flight, growing bigger and stronger each day. The prince practiced his swordfight, archery, and riding on top of his scholarship. He learned to talk back to the people who disparaged him, and found ways to get them back if he couldn't. He became stronger, changing from a boy who played alone to a man who could parry an insult with a smile. 

And then, one day, when the prince was brushing Mahamut's wings---still too small to carry them both---the prince's mother came to see him. 

"You've always wanted to prove yourself, don't you, Claude?"

Sensing there was something important she was going to say, the prince let go of Mahamut to face her. "What happened, Mother?"

"Back in the West, in Fodlan. I heard my brother died, killed, and he was childless. My father is left with no heir. They want me back."

"What, to inherit the Alliance?"

She snorted, as if disgusted with the idea. "I don't want anything to do with the Alliance anymore. I'm happier here, with your father, with our people. But you, Claude..."

"Ah, I see. You want me to walk in there, declare myself a legitimate heir to one of the leading houses of the West, and take your place as leader of the Alliance without making it obvious that I'm just a bastard son of Almyra."

"I don't need your sass, kid. I know you've wanted this for a while. If you stay here you'll just be a footnote on your half-brother's legacy, but as leader of the Alliance, you know you can do great things. _I_ know you can do great things." She smirked. "So you want in? I can write them a letter. No one will dismiss you, and definitely not since you have your crest."

Mahamut could feel excitement bubbling up within the prince. Though Mahamut did not understand it, he grew excited as well. The prince smiled at his mother, balled his fist, and nodded. 

Mahamut was happy to see the prince so happy. He didn't know that it means the prince would leave, and that he couldn't come with him.

"I'm sorry I can't take you with me, Mahamut. They'll ask too many questions," he said, the next day, brushing his wings. Wings that could not grow fast enough. "I'll be back one day. I promise. One day, we'll fly together.

Mahamut could not deny him, not after he'd seen the hope that flickered in the prince's eyes. He looked on as the prince picked up his pack and said his farewell to his parents. He looked up as his prince soared on the back of another wyvern, and flew away westwards.

* * *

One year passed. There were no signs of the prince, but still Mahamut trained and grew stronger.

* * *

Two years passed. The Queen was kind to him, and sometimes he'd read letters that smelled faintly of the prince next to him. 

* * *

Four years passed. Mahamut had grown big and strong, strong enough to carry someone on his back. Still, he would not let anyone come close. Only the prince was allowed on his back, the prince and no one else.

* * *

Six years passed.

The prince had been away for six years long. In that span of time, Mahamut had grown powerful, even rivalling the Queen's own wyvern. When he took to the skies, he knew everyone looked up in awe.

Yet he still felt empty. The prince should have been here. The prince should have seen him grown. The prince should be on his back. They would rule the skies together. Where was he?

And then one day, one of the prince's friend came to him.

"Mahamut! How are you, lil guy?" he asked, offering bits of treats to him.

Mahamut snorted, but accepted the offering.

"Hey. I know you don't let anyone get on your back, but Prince Khalid sent me a message. He wanted me to come help him out, out there beyond the Western Mountains. He'd been a bit overwhelmed with the Alliance and the war and all that."

Mahamut could not understand most of what the man said, but he listened.

"He wanted me to go there, but stealthily, so I can't just bring an army with him. Just by myself. And, well, I know he'll be glad to see you."

Mahamut looked up.

The man grinned. "Well, I'll be! You really do look like you understand us. Point is, will you let me ride on your back, to go and see him?"

Mahamut did not understand everything that the man said, but he understood enough. Though he wouldn't let anyone take the prince's place on his back, he could make an exception.

* * *

The land in the west was different from the land Mahamut knew. It was colder, and it didn't have any of the wide open plains that he so loved. The sky was darker, murkier, and he could feel something bad on the horizon.

Still, the grass where he landed was green, and at the moment at least, the sky was still blue. As his temporary rider went off, he lay on the ground and sniffed. There was a familiar smell among the foreign aromas.

"Mahamut?"

It was the prince's voice.

Mahamut looked up, and for the first time in six years, he saw the prince again. 

He had changed. He stood taller. Braver. His eyes were still mischievous as ever, but he no longer tried to hide the brilliance underneath. He walked like a man who had done great things. He was not a prince anymore. In this faraway land, he was a king.

That did not stop Mahamut from charging ahead and trying to climb on his shoulder as he used to.

"Wait wait wait, Mahamut, stop! You're not a small wyvern anymore- ouch! Oh, I miss you too, buddy."

Mahamut sniffed his hair, his strange new smell, his newly grown beard, as he laughed a familiar laughter. The prince. The king. But still he was his friend.

"Hey, Mahamut," the king said as he got up and walked around to his back. "I still remember the promise I made, you know."

Mahamut did as well. He lowered his body for the king to climb.

"I know our sky's not as clear as Almyra right now, not with the war going," the king said as he, at last, climbed on his back. "But I _will_ end this war. Bring peace and clear skies to this land. Break the walls between my two homelands, and, well, we can just as easily fly between the two then, can't we?"

The king scratched Mahamut's neck, a sensation he hadn't felt in so long. 

"You'll help me, won't you? Together, we'll be unstoppable."

Yes, unstoppable.

Mahamut spread his wings. And then, with a roar, he took the the sky, the king on his back. Already he could feel the air becoming clearer, his heart fuller. Nevermind the cold, the fires in the horizon. They were together. And together, they would rule the skies. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just think Claude's relationships with his wyvern can be pretty neat. This ends up being a bit longer than I expected, but oh well, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As far as I knew we never had a canon name for Claude's wyvern, so I'm rolling my own here. It's a double linguistic pun that means roughly "great beast", and also sounds like Bahamut, a beast who is said to support the world. I just think it sounds neat.
> 
> The devs said in an interview that Claude's real name might actually be Khalid, but I like the idea that his mom also gave him a Fodlanese name to spite the Almyran racists. He's just as much Fodlanese as he is Almyran, as much Claude as Khalid. 
> 
> But, ah, for his wyvern, names don't matter. He'll always be his prince, his king, his friend.


End file.
